

Betrayed. Killed. Reborn as a worthless eight-year-old. The greatest Necromancer King doesn't stay down. Hidden behind a child's face, he contracts Death and a Fallen Angel—and makes every one of them pay. Until a voice laughs from the dark—"You didn't think it was over, did you?"

The witch told us my older sister would die at sixteen, and her prophecies had never been wrong. From that moment on, my sister became the most important one in the family. The best venison was saved for her. The rare white fox fur was given to her. Every night, our parents told her bedtime stories. I knew she was pitiful, but I still felt hurt and resentful. Then, on the day she turned sixteen, a sharp pain spread through my chest. Afraid I would cause trouble, my parents locked me in the basement. “Mom, please…” I cried, pounding on the door. “I can feel my wolf spirit getting weaker. Let me out…” However, Mom said without hesitation, “No! Today is an important day for your sister. “She only has one day left. Just bear with it…” When I finally closed my eyes and my soul drifted out of my body, I saw the living room filled with warm candlelight. My parents were holding my sister who was alive and well as they cried. Only then did I realize that the witch’s prophecy had never been wrong. The one meant to die was never my sister.

Emergency physician Charli Spencer dies suddenly from overwork and wakes up in the body of her namesake in the Republican era.There, she shares a night of unexpected passion with Stephen Dawson, the formidable Warlord of the capital. But fate soon pulls them apart. While Stephen becomes obsessed with finding her again, Charli discovers she is pregnant and chooses to raise their son,Kevin alone.Five years later, Stephen finally uncovers the truth about Kevin. Determined not to lose them again, he proposes to Charli and begs her to enter the Marshal's Mansion as his wife...

Modern corporate drone Jake Clark died from overworking himself during a late-night gaming session, only to wake up as the idol of Azury!

Wesley Yates, an 800-year-old immortal, leaves the mountain to face his trial of love and marry the most beautiful girl, Qiana Scott. At the engagement party, an impostor shows up, while the powerful Dennis and Lawson families openly provoke him, and even the Dragon Lord himself steps forward to challenge. With effortless calm, Wesley handles every threat and presents his beloved with a Longevity Pill as a symbol of their bond.Six decades later, the once-invincible Ancestor and the stunning beauty still live together in a quiet courtyard. Their looks remain unchanged, and their love is as deep as ever.

I died on the day I was supposed to receive the Pack’s Distinguished Service Award. Three hours after I died, my parents, my brother, and my mate were just wrapping up the graduation party they’d thrown for my sister. While my sister, Ella, was posting a cozy family photo on Instagram, I was locked in our basement, using my tongue to swipe on my phone and call for help. The only person who answered was my mate, Ryan. All he said was, "Sophie, cut the drama. Ella's graduation party is important. Enough with the tantrums!" This was the ninety-ninth time they had let me down. And the last. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my lungs still. They thought I was just throwing a fit, hiding somewhere. That if they taught me a lesson, I’d come crawling back. But they didn't know. I was home the whole time. I was already dead.

I died on the day I was supposed to receive the Pack’s Distinguished Service Award. Three hours after I died, my parents, my brother, and my mate were just wrapping up the graduation party they’d thrown for my sister. While my sister, Ella, was posting a cozy family photo on Instagram, I was locked in our basement, using my tongue to swipe on my phone and call for help. The only person who answered was my mate, Ryan. All he said was, "Sophie, cut the drama. Ella's graduation party is important. Enough with the tantrums!" This was the ninety-ninth time they had let me down. And the last. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my lungs still. They thought I was just throwing a fit, hiding somewhere. That if they taught me a lesson, I’d come crawling back. But they didn't know. I was home the whole time. I was already dead.

The night I died, my whole family was busy celebrating my twin sister Elena's eighteenth birthday. Everyone thought Elena was going to die the next day. We're elves. My father worked as a clan guardian, and after Mom gave birth to Elena and me as twins, she stopped working altogether. We should have been a happy family. But from the moment we were born, Elena and I were bound by a witch's curse. Because Elena came into the world one minute before me, she took the full weight of it onto herself. She was never supposed to live past eighteen. From the day we were born, Elena was the family's treasure. Mom and Dad treated me like I owed her something. New toys went to her first. New dresses were always her pick. Every night, Mom would sit in Elena's room for at least an hour before she'd turn off the light. I always fell asleep alone. One night I had a nightmare and ran barefoot to find Mom. She was holding Elena and didn't even look up. "Go back to bed. Stop making a fuss." I kept telling myself: she's dying, of course they're kind to her. But every time I let something go, that splinter in my chest pushed a little deeper. Then the day the curse was supposed to take effect finally came, and naturally, that was the day my stomach cramped so badly I could barely stand. Mom and Dad didn't hesitate. They shoved me into the cellar and locked it from outside. I crouched on the stone floor with the smell of mildew everywhere and knocked on the door over and over. "Mom... Dad... my stomach really hurts, I can't even stand up... let me out, please..." One sentence came back through the door. "Your sister is dying tonight! Can you just give us one day? One day!" "But... Mom... I'm scared..." Nobody answered after that. The cellar went quiet. My eyelids grew heavy. My last thought was: if I were the one dying of a curse, would they come hold me too.

The night I died, my whole family was busy celebrating my twin sister Elena's eighteenth birthday. Everyone thought Elena was going to die the next day. We're elves. My father worked as a clan guardian, and after Mom gave birth to Elena and me as twins, she stopped working altogether. We should have been a happy family. But from the moment we were born, Elena and I were bound by a witch's curse. Because Elena came into the world one minute before me, she took the full weight of it onto herself. She was never supposed to live past eighteen. From the day we were born, Elena was the family's treasure. Mom and Dad treated me like I owed her something. New toys went to her first. New dresses were always her pick. Every night, Mom would sit in Elena's room for at least an hour before she'd turn off the light. I always fell asleep alone. One night I had a nightmare and ran barefoot to find Mom. She was holding Elena and didn't even look up. "Go back to bed. Stop making a fuss." I kept telling myself: she's dying, of course they're kind to her. But every time I let something go, that splinter in my chest pushed a little deeper. Then the day the curse was supposed to take effect finally came, and naturally, that was the day my stomach cramped so badly I could barely stand. Mom and Dad didn't hesitate. They shoved me into the cellar and locked it from outside. I crouched on the stone floor with the smell of mildew everywhere and knocked on the door over and over. "Mom... Dad... my stomach really hurts, I can't even stand up... let me out, please..." One sentence came back through the door. "Your sister is dying tonight! Can you just give us one day? One day!" "But... Mom... I'm scared..." Nobody answered after that. The cellar went quiet. My eyelids grew heavy. My last thought was: if I were the one dying of a curse, would they come hold me too.

I went to pick up my three-year-old son from preschool, only to run into a man who had snapped and started attacking people with a knife. To protect my son, I took more than a dozen stab wounds and collapsed in a pool of blood. Ethan Lawson had the attacker taken to the police station and brought in the best medical team to save us. Before I was wheeled into surgery, I anxiously asked how my son was doing. But Ethan’s eyes were red as he told me our son had lost too much blood. He had stopped breathing on the way to the hospital. The grief hit me so hard that I passed out. I forgot to tell them I was resistant to anesthesia. When I had just barely regained consciousness, I heard Ethan speaking with the doctor. “Mr. Lawson, he could have been saved. Why did you give up on resuscitation? He was your biological son. He was only three years old.” “I never planned to let him live,” Ethan said coldly. “His birth was a mistake from the start. And now he dared to ask me for a birthday present? What, was he trying to claim inheritance rights to the company?” “Vivian’s child and mine will turn eighteen soon. I promised her I’d give the company to our child as a coming-of-age gift. I won’t let anyone compete with him for it.” So the marriage I had thought was happy had been nothing but hell all along. Fine. If that was what they wanted, I would give it to them.